A Perfect Storm (A Fanfiction for "The Hunger Games")

Chapter 3

"Not very intimidating, are you?" I watch as my stylist, Sia, marks something in her planner, mouthing the word "petite". "That's alright, I can change that."

                I frown and twist my newly trimmed hair. Now it only reaches the place between my shoulder blades.. The charcoal tips curl slightly at the ends, almost like they are shrivelling up. It's such a small change, no one else would notice it at all, but I still feel like something important has been taken from me. The first part of my identity to be stolen. Hair grows back, but not everything does.

        We arrived in the Capitol yesterday. Mykael hasn't spoken to me all week and I would be lying if I said it didn't bother me. Every time I think of what I said and the look in his eye, like a wounded puppy, my heart throbs. I never wanted to make him hurt, I just wanted to protect him. But now with Aaryn's threat fresh in my mind I'm not sure I will even be able to do that. 

                Sighing, I close my eyes and wait for Sia to say something more. I like Sia, sort of. Other than ripping the hair off my arms and legs using what she called "wax", she hasn't actually hurt me yet, so I'm hoping that she truly is trying to help me. Maybe not everyone in the capitol is all that bad. Maybe I can trust her.

        Flinging her dyed red hair over one shoulder in one quick motion, she sets her notes on a side table. "I have a plan for the parade." Sia smiles at me knowingly as though I am just as excited about this as she is. "You're from the technology district."

                She says it as a statement, not a question, and I fail to catch on to what she is trying to tell me so  I just nod once, slowly, encouraging her to continue preparing me for one of her bizarre ideas.

                "So," Sia drawls, "I am going to have your outfit surge with electricity!"

                At this she claps her hands together and squeals like a little kid. Even I have to pause and imagine what it will look like. I am small, it's true, but clearly Sia has a plan where that tiny detail won't matter. For a moment, I am almost frightened of what she intends to do to me. When she is finished, will I even be the same girl any more? Or have I already changed?

***

I am fierce.

                There's no doubt about it. I look powerful.

                So why am I more frightened of myself than the people around me?

                At first I thought I was looking at a photograph of someone else, someone capable and strong, not into a mirror, but then I peered closer. Yes, it's definitely me; that much I can tell. Sia straightened my hair and pulled it back into a tight, severe ponytail that hangs over my right shoulder. My tresses are adorned with an elegant sapphire crown circled around my forehead, bringing out the shades of blue and gray in my eyes, causing an electrifying effect. The iciness in them is brought out with black eye-liner and fake blue eyelashes ringed around my irises in a vibrant explosion. The tips are sparkling with energy, as though lightning itself was being formed inside me.

                I can tell that my stylist wished to make my features sterner and crueller. While my eyes are petrifying, my lips are unavoidable to the eye, outlined in deep red. I notice defined cheekbones jutting out that I didn't even know I had and my skin appears flawless, pure, and white. Whiter than the snow freezing upon the icy floor in winter. The same ice that people slip on and break their necks. Ice is deadly.

        I'm not fourteen any more. I am the past, present, and future.

                You can see the influence of Egyptian goddesses set far in the past, before the hunger games, before the rebellions in District 13, and before me. Someone Sia called "Cleopatra" was a factor in the design. The electricity represents the now, what it is like in District 3, and everything speaks of what I can become: what the future will look like.